Queen Mother
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: They were both queens. They were both mothers. And they both sought the Iron Throne...


**Queen Mother**

Daenerys Targaryen had never imagined herself being back in the Dragonpit. Least not under these circumstances.

Then, she'd never imagined a lot of things that had come to pass over the years. She'd never imagined being sold off to a Dothraki khal. She'd never imagined leading her own khalassar, or becoming the Mother of Dragons. She'd never imagined leading an army of Unsullied to destroy the trade that gave Slaver's Bay its name. And she'd most certainly never imagined leading her armies across the Narrow Sea to fight the walking dead in the frigid wastes of the North.

Yet it had all come to pass. And the one thing she'd imagined for nearly a decade, of her taking the Iron Throne and restoring the Targaryen Dynasty, was the one thing that she'd yet to accomplish. Sitting her, in the Dragonpit, looking at the one who currently called the throne hers…it was tempting. Ever so tempting to call upon her Unsullied to slay the False Queen, and hope that the queen's own guards didn't kill the Mother of Dragons in turn.

"You look tired," said Cersei Lannister.

Daenerys smiled. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Didn't say you weren't fine, I said you looked tired." Cersei leant back in her chair, smirking as only a lion could. "Was your little romp in the snow that exhausting?"

"It was, actually. No thanks to you." She frowned. "Honestly, I think I'm being a bit too lenient on your brother when you fooled him into thinking you'd commit your forces. A smiling snake is not to be trusted."

"Then here's to your reign," Cersei said, raising a glass of wine in mock toast. "Dragons, snakes, and little imps. A fine start to the glorious revival of House Targaryen."

"Is that a promise that you'll give me what's rightfully mine?"

Cersei drowned half the wine in a single gulp before thumping it down on the table. "Don't be absurd."

Daenerys forced a smile. "Couldn't help but ask."

"And you couldn't help but walk into the lion's den. If nothing else, your tenacity has won my respect."

The two queens sat there. Behind each of them were the ones who had pledged themselves to their cause. Unsullied, and the Golden Company. In the bay was the Iron Fleet, ready to face off against Daenerys's. In the land around the city was an army, or rather, what was left of an army. Looking over a city that was defended by 10,000 men at least, plus the Lannister forces that remained loyal to Cersei, plus the people that would fight for the False Queen. Or "Lion Queen," as she'd taken to calling herself. In the Game of Thrones, titles had a power of their own.

"Alright," Cersei said. "Let's get down to business." She straightened herself in her chair. "You requested parlay. I agreed to your request on the condition that you come alone." She nodded at the Unsullied. "Eunuchs notwithstanding of course."

"One can never be too careful."

"And I know exactly why you requested it," Cersei said, smiling. "It's because you know you can't take the city."

Daenerys, keeping her face as passive as possible, murmured, "you know that's not true."

"Do I?"

"You know that I possess an army, a fleet, and a pair of dragons. Were I to give the order, I could burn this city to the ground."

"But you won't do that, will you?" Cersei asked. "I mean, not because you're of sound moral character, but because you can't."

"By whose reckoning?"

"By the reckoning that I have ten-thousand mercenaries to fight at my side, all of whom are eager to draw blood. That's in addition to the largest fleet this world has ever seen. You, on the other hand, have an army that, at best, is half the size of mine, and is wearied by battle and marching south."

"Plus dragons," Daenerys said.

"Plus dragons," Cersei repeated. She took another sip of wine. "Tell me – have you counted how many ballistae are on the walls of this city? There's ten on the Red Keep alone."

Daenerys frowned. "I didn't count. We both know that they can't do anything."

"Can they not? Then perhaps you would like to fly your dragons to my castle now and take the throne with the blood and fire that is the essence of your family's name. Be true to the precedent that Aegon Targaryen established." She took another sip. "I assume you understand that the Conquest of Westeros was just that – a conquest. And that conquests are never won without blood."

"I conquered Slaver's Bay. I know exactly what conquest means." She frowned. "And for you to lecture me on blood-"

"Both are houses are built on blood. The difference between the two of us is that I don't rule Westeros for the sake of a so-called better future. I rule Westeros because it needs a firm hand. I rule it for myself." She touched her stomach. "And for my child."

Daenerys watched the Lion Queen pat her belly, hidden under the black armour that she wore. Was she pregnant? Certainly there was a slight bulge, albeit well hidden. More than anything though, it was the colour that got to her – Cersei's black to her white. The golden lion compared to the silver dragon. In that regard, this meeting was the same as the one that had been carried out months prior.

There was a difference though – the overcast skies. The snowflakes that drifted down, so few and so irregularly, that she'd barely noticed them up to this point. Winter had come. Winter covered King's Landing. Not nearly as severe as the North, or even the Riverlands, but it was here all the same. A chill that caressed her flesh, and whispered to her soul – of the horror that brought winter, and the night he had sought to cover the world with.

"Let's assume that what you say is correct," Daenerys said. "Let us assume that I can't take King's Landing."

"You can't," Cersei said. "You don't even have the numbers to fully encircle it."

"Let's also assume that's true." She leant back in her own chair, looking as regal as possible. "If you had a request of me, what words would you utter?"

Cersei chuckled. "The besieged offering terms to the besieger. Oh isn't this a twist of irony."

"Don't push me Cersei."

"Fine." She clicked her fingers and one of the Golden Company mercenaries walked up to her. "My first demand would be for you to send both of my brothers over to me. I have a pair of pikes on the walls of the Red Keep that need heads."

"That isn't happening."

"Is it not? Have you grown so fond of the imp and the…" She scowled. "I don't even know what to call Jaime anymore."

The mercenary took the bottle that was lying on the table and began to fill Cersei's glass.

"Anyway, I can live without that condition being met. But I would expect all the others to be granted."

"Ask, and I shall consider."

"Very well." Cersei took a sip of the wine, and the mercenary stood in place. "My first demand is that you leave Westeros. Scurry back to whatever hell you made for yourself in the east and stay there."

"That's not-"

"Let me finish." She took another sip of wine. "The second condition is that my claim to the throne is recognised. Jon Snow comes here and bends the knee, as does a representative of each of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Dorne and the Reach are without their great houses, and you-"

"The third condition is that my brothers join you in exile," Cersei said. "Their heads, I can live without, just as I can without the head of the bitch named Sansa Stark. I'll even let her remain Lady of Winterfell and name her half-brother Warden of the North. But my brothers and you have no place here. The sun set on the Targaryen Dynasty nearly two decades ago. And by the gods, it will never rise again." She took another sip of wine.

"Is that all?" Daenerys murmured.

"I assure you that these are better terms than what your father would have offered."

The Mother of Dragons frowned. "I'm not my father."

"No. You're not. And you're all the weaker for it." Cersei chuckled. "Aerys, Second of His Name, would have burnt King's Landing to the ground as soon as he reached Westeros. You, on the other hand, have taken the high road, only to find that it's run out, and you can't jump down without breaking your body." She smirked. "That's what happens when there's not enough corpses to soften the fall."

Daenerys said nothing. Bad enough that Cersei had mastered the art of smirking and drinking at the same time. Worse that, gods damn it, she was right.

"Let's say I did agree to these terms," Daenerys murmured. She had no intention of doing so, but she had to find a way of breaking the stalemate somehow. "What guarantee do I have that the people of the Seven Kingdoms will be treated any better than-"

"You don't." Cersei took another sip of wine. She leant back in her chair, smirking. "Dear girl, you don't understand, do you?"

"Understand what?"

"I don't care."

"Pardon?"

"I. Don't. Care. I don't care about the smallfolk. I don't care about dead men who walk in the snow. I don't care if there's a place in the Seventh Circle of Hell for me. I care about only two things – myself. And the child that I'm carrying." She patted her stomach.

"One child's life over the lives of millions."

"Is that so hard a concept to understand?" Cersei asked. "Why, I'd have thought that you would have reached the same point by now."

"My dragons are-"

"I'm not talking about your dragons you stupid girl, I'm talking about the child that's growing inside your own belly."

Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, and Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, turned as pale as the snow that fell around them. "That's not-"

"You wear your cloak well, but it can't quite hide the bulge in your belly." Cersei smiled, and unlike all her other smiles thus far, there was no malice to it. "This is the fifth time my belly has swelled like this, so I know the signs well. Tell me – would I be correct in guessing that the bastard son of Ned Stark is the father?"

"He's not the-"

"Do spare me you silly girl. I can see it in the way you hold yourself. You've put your hand to your belly five times over the last ten minutes and not even noticed it. The belly bulges, your breasts swell, and you want to bring this war to a close now because you don't want to risk your child's life on the battlefield."

"I…" Daenerys took a breath. "That's a very interesting assertion Cersei, but-"

The Lion Queen looked to the mercenary. "Do it."

It happened fast. The mercenary drew out a dirk. The Unsullied moved to defend their queen. The dirk came down towards Daenerys's stomach. The Dragon Queen recoiled, instinct guiding her body in a vain attempt to avoid the blade that was ready to pierce her flesh and-

"Stop."

The dirk hovered there, an inch above the cloak. Above the leather and flesh that was below it, and the hand that was on top of it.

"Sheathe your weapon."

The mercenary nodded and did just that. Trembling, Daenerys glanced at the Unsullied and made a gesture with her hand – come close, but don't engage.

"That's close enough," Cersei said.

Daenerys made another gesture. The Unsullied stopped in place. Looking back, trying to steady her breathing, she looked back at the Lion Queen.

"It's an invigorating feeling, isn't it?" she asked. "Fighting for your child's life? Being afraid of losing them?"

Daenerys said nothing. Her left hand scrunched into a fist. Her right remained over her stomach. She watched as Cersei finished her wine.

"If you are pregnant, I don't think you should drink that."

Cersei ignored her and gestured for more, the mercenary obliging. "I've lost four children over the course of my life, Daenerys Targaryen. All taken me either by fate or treachery." She took a sip, and when she spoke, Daenerys could sense that she was speaking less to the Mother of Dragons, and more to herself. "There's a pair of bodies in the Black Cells…a mother and daughter…I thought…I thought that dealing justice to them would help but…" She took a sip, nay, gulp of wine, drowning all of it in one go. "There are few things sacred in this world Daenerys Targaryen. But my children…the ones I've had, and the fifth that has yet to be born…I would do anything for them, do you understand me? Anything. The city may burn, the world may burn, I would even let your dead men smother the world in ice if I could save my child in the process."

Looking into the Lion Queen's eyes, Daenerys didn't doubt her.

"Which is why I'm going to let you go back to your miscreants and relay the terms I've given you," Cersei said. She leant back in her chair – she looked tired, and not just because of the wine. "Believe me, it would do me no small amount of good to have your head on a pike outside the Red Keep, or for your body to be taken by the human detritus of Flea Bottom, but…" She sighed. "But soon, you're going to be a mother. And for your child's sake, I'll let you live, provided that you scurry back over the sea from whence you came."

"And if I don't?" Daenerys murmured.

"Then may the gods help you. Because nothing in this world will." Cersei made a gesture with her hand. "Now go. I'm tired of indulging you, and maternal love only goes so far."

Daenerys, after a pause, got to her feet. Her left hand unclenched, even if her right remained in her belly. Months had passed since that night on the ship that had taken her to White Harbour. Only a few months left of coming to accept the truth, that Jon Snow was the father of her child. And months of dealing with the truth that she had yet to fully process – that his claim to the throne was even stronger than hers.

Cersei couldn't know that. No-one could know that. In her darker moments, she'd even considered reducing the number of people who knew that. She-

"I know what it's like to lose a child," she said.

She stood there. Cersei sat there.

"My first son," she said. "The one who the Dothraki said would mount the horse that conquered the world."

Cersei smirked. "I know what it is to be mounted by a savage."

"I…" She composed herself. "I would let you leave, you understand. If not for your sake, then the child that's growing in your belly."

"A mother's mercy, is that it?" Cersei asked.

"A mother's mercy. A queen's mercy. Mercy that would save over ten-thousand lives."

"Then I suggest you find your own mercy and leave the realm to me," Cersei said. "Because while we're both mothers, past and future, and both monsters in the present, I'm the one that accepts it. Not you."

"That-"

"My terms remain. Now return to your people. I'm tired of hearing you prattle on, and just as tired of looking at you."

For Daenerys Targaryen, the feeling was mutual.

So in silence, she departed with her Unsullied. Leaving the False Queen, the Lion Queen, the Usurper, alone.

Both queens seeking the same throne.

Both queens clutching their bellies as the snow continued to fall.


End file.
